


Birthday Blues

by Nimbus_Cloud



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11128326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimbus_Cloud/pseuds/Nimbus_Cloud
Summary: “Exactly how do birthdays work in the household of the fearsome Zoldyck family?” Hisoka propped himself up on his elbows, genuinely curious as to the answer.“Normally,” Illumi replied flatly.  “Cake, candles, presents.”





	Birthday Blues

**Author's Note:**

> I hate doing excessive tags in the fic description, but honestly the thing is... I'm writing about 2 psychopaths (one with pedophilic tendencies and the other with weird brother issues), so I feel like just their names is warning enough.   
> And also... fluff for these two just... isn't that fluffy lol.

Summer was arguably Hisoka’s least favorite season of the year.  Not that he had a favorite, but least favorite would be summer.  Sure, it brought out the young boys in shorts, but summers were (by definition)  _ hot _ .  Not to mention, summers in Yorknew City were also disgustingly muggy and the boiling air made the less  _ reputable  _ areas of the city positively reek.  Slums might always smell like shit, but the smell of  _ boiling  _ shit was something truly special.  Thank goodness he’d graduated to presidential suites in 5-star hotels.  

The only problem was that all the nice features of a fancy hotel (like climate control) were lost when Illumi kept coming back in the middle of the night following an assignment and leaving the balcony doors open.  Apparently, putting on a needle disguise and going through the lobby was just  _ too  _ much effort; no, he insisted on scaling the building instead.  Thanks to that, Hisoka woke up now to the sun shooting its scorching beams into his eyes and all the wonderful, humid, polluted city air filling up the suite.  He was hot and sticky, and not at all in the way he liked.  

Beside him, Illumi had the goose-feather duvet pulled up over his head and was sleeping like the dead.  He was impervious to weather somehow—Hisoka suspected it was because the man’s internal body temperature was disturbingly low.  The first time they’d gotten physical, Hisoka had mused that it had felt like kissing and fucking a corpse.  Maybe a teeny bit more fun, but sometimes just as quiet.  The clown was about to turn over and wake him up—not fair that Illumi got to sleep in when he couldn’t—when Illumi’s phone suddenly buzzed on the far bedside table.  A pale arm emerged from the sheets to retrieve it.

“Ugh…”

Hisoka almost asked if the message was about his next target, but Illumi  _ never _ complained about work.  “Was that a scoff I heard?”

“It’s Milluki.”  The assassin pulled down the comforter until only his eyes showed, the tiniest furrow between his thin brows.  “His birthday’s coming up and he won’t shut up about needing money.”  

A bizarre image of Illumi wearing a brightly-colored paper birthday hat sitting stiffly at a table with the rest of the solemn Zoldyck family flashed across Hisoka’s mind, and he couldn’t tell whether to be disturbed or to laugh.  

“Exactly how do birthdays work in the household of the fearsome Zoldyck family?” Hisoka propped himself up on his elbows, genuinely curious as to the answer.  

“Normally,” Illumi replied flatly.  “Cake, candles, presents.”  

_ Wait—  _

“Mother usually wakes us up with throwing knives, but one year Killua got poison gas pumped into his room.  The servants make a different kind of poisoned birthday cake every year.  To help build up our immunities.  Sometimes the candles are explosives.”  

_ There it was.   _ ‘Normal’ for  _ that  _ family meant ‘lethal’ to most others.  “And the presents are what… poisonous snakes hidden in big boxes with fancy bows?”  

“Money.”  

_ Oh.   _ A surprisingly boring answer. 

“However many millions of zenni to match your age.  Milluki is nineteen, so he got nineteen million zenni last year.”

Money was still boring, but in amounts like that, Hisoka could still feel justified in raising an eyebrow.  

“Remind me how old you are?” Hisoka asked as he pulled down the duvet to reveal Illumi’s entire face.

“Twenty-four.”

“Nearly overripe then,” the clown teased, nibbling on Illumi’s ear lobe.  “Do I owe you a present?”

“Let me kill Gon.”

Hisoka pulled away almost instantly, his nen flaring up in warning.

“Worth a shot,” Illumi sighed before rolling onto his side to face Hisoka.  “Do you even have a birthday?”

“It stands to reason, Illumi,” Hisoka mused.  “That since I was  _ born  _ at some point, that I would have a day on which I was birthed.  Doesn’t that seem logical?”  Even monsters had mothers; Hisoka just had no idea who the unfortunate woman was.

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow,” Hisoka’s answer was immediate.

“Liar.”  Illumi’s reply was just as fast.

“July 7th,” Hisoka corrected.

“That’s Killua’s birthday,” Illumi frowned.  “Why do you know that?”

“Maybe I’ve been stalking your dear younger brother in my free time.  Maybe I’ve been looking into your entire family to sell the information along…” Hisoka sing-songed, but the waves of Illumi’s murderous intent were only adding to the uncomfortable heat.  “Or maybe I heard about the merry band of four meeting up to celebrate it not too long ago… with  _ non _ -poisonous cake.  Stop that, it’s too hot as it is.”  

“So when is it?” Illumi was cranky now.

“April 4th.”

“You can just say you don’t want to tell me.”

“June 6th.”

“...”

The assassin fixed Hisoka with a long, indecipherable stare.  He had clearly decided this information was at last the truth, but was now unsure how to handle the sudden honesty.  A show of trust?  Between two lying, murderous scoundrels of the underworld?  Or perhaps the information was simply so inconsequential, it meant nothing to part with it.  

“And how old are you now?”

“ _ That’s  _ the secret,” Hisoka winked.  “But I plan on being young and beautiful forever—”

“Happy 47th birthday then,” Illumi cut in.

“Geh!!  What is that, your  _ father’s  _ age?!” Hisoka choked.

“Just about.”

“You’d sleep with a man as old as your father?” Hisoka asked incredulously, horrified that anyone could ever imply that he looked a day older than…  _ twenty  _ at the oldest.  

“Does the age really matter if they still  _ look  _ young and beautiful?” 

The summer heat was gone in an instant, washed out by the cold dread that seeped into his bones at Illumi being… what was that?  Affectionate?  

“Did you just call me beautiful?”

“No.”

“I’m pretty sure I just heard you—”

“I was talking about any hypothetical middle-aged man.  Not specifically you.”

“I am  _ not  _ middle-aged—” Hisoka’s voice was beginning to take on a peculiar shrill.

“Then tell me how old you are.”

Narrowing his eyes, Hisoka retreated from the conversation and from the bed.  He needed to close the balcony door anyway and crank the air conditioner down to freezing to feel human again.  The first gusts of cooled air from the vents washed over him in a liberating wave.  Illumi watched him with his usual even stare, then he silently brought himself up to a sitting position on the bed.  

“How did  _ you  _ celebrate birthdays?  Growing up?”

The temperature of the room, still fluctuating as the cool air worked to disperse evenly throughout, now seemed quite mercurial as Hisoka’s nen radiated around him in a protective shell, guarding himself and warning others to beware.  

“Illumi, you’re venturing into very dangerous territory.”

“You asked about my family and how we celebrate.  And I answered you.”

_ Because it means nothing to you _ , Hisoka thought.  As bizarre and homicidal as the Zoldyck family was—even to each other—they were still a family.  Illumi had a mother and a father, a living grandparent, a litter of siblings, even a monstrous pet dog.  He knew exactly when he had been born, where, to whom, and he could reliably celebrate every year surrounded by a family.  By comparison…

“I don’t understand,” Illumi broke the silence.  “I didn’t think it would mean so much to you.”

“It doesn’t,” Hisoka shrugged.

“Humans are born.  Eventually humans die.  A year’s turn marks an arbitrary measure known as age.  But age is no indicator of skill or power.  It is a useless measure.  Birthday celebrations are trivial.”

“Then why care so much about mine?”

“Because you asked about mine.”  Illumi’s answer was disgustingly simple.  “Equal exchange of information is important.  I can’t tell you something for nothing.”

“”Even if that  _ something  _ is as ‘useless’ and ‘trivial’ as you say?”

Illumi gave him a blank stare, silently implying that such a thing should be obvious.  He really was the perfect assassin his parents raised him to be.  The black pits of his eyes held not a trace of sympathy or leniency.

Eventually Hisoka said, “I haven’t celebrated my birthday since my days in the circus in Glam Gas Land.” 

Illumi seemed to be evaluating the value of the information Hisoka just shared as he tilted his head slightly to one side.  But valuable or no, it was all Hisoka planned on sharing.  He had been far too truthful this morning, and it was beginning to set him on edge.  Really, he was allergic to honesty.  

“...you were in a circus?” Illumi titled his head further sideways, like a curious, creepy owl.

Hisoka blinked ten times in the time it took Illumi to blink even once.  “Is that…  _ surprising _ ?  To you?”

“What did you do in the circus?”

“Illumi.”  Hisoka could scarce believe what he was hearing.  There really was  _ nothing  _ else inside Illumi’s head but murder.  “Look at me.  What else could I have been?”

If he really needed a hint, Hisoka could always tell him that it started with a ‘c’ and ended with ‘lown.’  

“I’ve never been to a circus,” Illumi said defensively.  “And you’re a liar.  You could have been anything.”

It was just logical enough to make arguing difficult.  But he remained flabbergasted and amused at just how little Illumi knew of the world.  Not for lack of exposure, but lack of interest.  Desire just wasn’t in the assassin’s vocabulary.

All things considered, however, Hisoka didn’t think Illumi was missing much from having never seen a circus.  The good ones featured mediocre nen users (and nen was no more magical than the internet, really).  The ones without nen users were sad, pitiful attempts at spectacle with no talent and no fun secrets.  It would be an overstatement to say they could even pass for entertainment, beyond the strict definition of the word.  Illumi and the circus Zoldyck were a thousand times more entertaining.  

“ _ You’d  _ make a great addition to any circus,” Hisoka mused with a wink.  “What do you say we go find one and show them our skills?” 

“I take it you miss the limelight,” Illumi yawned, laying himself back down and pulling up the covers.  

“I’d miss the murder and mayhem more,” Hisoka sighed.  Circuses didn’t generally condone murder, nor would he be surrounded by company  _ worth  _ killing.  And speaking of murder and mayhem… now he was definitely in the mood for some.  

“Take your bloodlust outside…” Illumi groaned from beneath the blanket, the waves of Hisoka’s agitated nen disturbing his sleep.  Two weeks of all-nighters and cat naps where he could fit them in during the day had made him crabby.  

“Illumi…” Hisoka giggled, his voice growing fevered.  “Let’s go do something  _ awful _ .” 

“I don’t care what you do with your day, but I need at least a few hours of sleep before I head out again to stalk my target.”  Illumi rolled onto his side, back to the clown.  

“What if  _ I  _ killed your target?” Hisoka gave a wink to the grumpy pile of sheets and blankets.  “He’s eluded you for some time now, so that must mean he’s pretty good.”

“ _ My  _ bounty,” Illumi grumbled.  “I don’t get paid if i’m not the one who kills him.  And I’m not splitting.” 

That was the trouble with hired assassins.  It always came back around to  _ money _ —the most tedious, boring topic.  Rolling his eyes, Hisoka drawled, “You can keep your bounty—I just need to have some  _ fun _ .” 

At the promise of being able to retain his full payment, long, pale fingers reached up over the covers to pull them down a smidge.  With half his face still under the duvet, Illumi shot him a bleary look and gave in at last.  “...maybe.  But I still need to be there.  And that still needs to be later.  Let me sleep for now.”

“Have I ever told you what a buzzkill you can be sometimes?” When Illumi seemed unmoved, Hisoka tried a different tactic.  “I’ll consider it a belated birthday present from my favorite lover—”

“I’m your  _ only  _ lover.”

“For now,” Hisoka shrugged.  “But that can change at any time.  The heart is a fickle thing, you know.”

Illumi’s head shot out suddenly, his expression (for once) perturbed.  “Don’t tell me you actually have  _ feelings  _ for me.” 

“It’s a figure of speech,” Hisoka waved a hand.

It was hard to imagine their arrangement could be anything but physical with a few other utilitarian benefits.  It was possible Illumi could feel a sort of love (or at least a little selflessness) with regard to his family… but Hisoka felt love and devotion for himself only.  And right now, that love demanded mischief. 

“Sleep first, murder later.”  

Yet Illumi remained an immovable object.

“But I get to murder, yes?”

“Only because I don’t hate you entirely.”

“Awww… what a sweet thing to say!”   

 

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by a friend, who wanted birthday fluff for HisoIllu... "or as fluffy as is possible for those two anyway." 
> 
> In the end, I couldn't even bring myself to add the 'fluff' tag. It just didn't feel appropriate.


End file.
